


How John Came In

by toomanynames



Series: Surrounded by Spies [4]
Category: Spooks | MI-5, Strike Back
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 05:00:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toomanynames/pseuds/toomanynames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how they bring John into the fold.</p>
<p>Takes place roughly a year after Methods of Bathing</p>
            </blockquote>





	How John Came In

**Author's Note:**

> omg I remember [marci](http://mangocianamarch.tumblr.com/ao3ciana) saying something about being gifted with porter/anders/north porn a g e s ago and this idea just popped into my head when I woke up this morning and I wrote the whole thing in asks and copied them to a word doc what am I doing with my life
> 
> also there's more, like actual porn and stuff. later. at some point. omg here read it *runs away*
> 
> ps it's not beta'd I'm sorry

You're sitting in a café enjoying a nice, hot latte when he walks in. A grin spreads across your face; you thought he'd be in the office all day, so you're happy to see him. Maybe he found out where you were and came to surprise you for lunch. You raise your hand in greeting and call out to him, but he acts as if he hasn't heard you. Perhaps he hasn't.

So you get up, taking your coffee with you, and go right up to him, reaching out to touch his shoulder, and that's when he surprises you, but not how you expect.

Your fingers just barely brush his sleeve and he's whipping around, catching your wrist in an iron grip and glaring at you. You blink in shock, mouth hanging open for a moment before you shake yourself and try to tug out of his hold.

"Lucas?" Your voice shakes the tiniest bit, unnerved that he doesn't seem to recognize you. Maybe he had to leave the office on business? "Lucas, what -"

He lets go of you abruptly, making you stumble and spill your coffee. "Who are you?"

He must be on a job, then, but before you can apologise, say you thought he was someone else, your mobile starts to ring. Not-Lucas turns away from you as you take it out. And then suddenly you feel lightheaded and wobbly, your coffee dropping to spill across the floor with a crash. "Oh," you say faintly. You’re dimly aware of Not-Lucas turning back to you, but you know it’s really not Lucas, it’s someone else with his face.

Because Lucas is calling you, and this stranger isn’t holding a phone.

You're led to a chair and you sit automatically as you answer. "H - hello?"

There's silence for a moment, and your eyes flick worriedly to the man who isn't Lucas. Maybe Lucas _is_ on a job, only he left his phone...

"What's wrong?" Lucas' voice comes through the ear piece, and for some reason relief floods through you.

"It's... It's nothing," you assure him, because he sounds like he's ready to go to war for you, all because you're shaken up. It makes you smile. "It's just... I ran into someone who looks like you." You look at the stranger again, and it's weird, to be talking to Lucas on the phone but be looking at someone who could be his twin.

You can hear the smirk in Lucas' voice. "Did you go up to this stranger who looks like me?" You're sure he's imagining all possible embarrassing scenarios. And laughing about it, the ass.

"I did, because I thought it _was_ you, even after he turned around." Your stranger starts to leave, assured you're alright, but it's your turn to grab _his_ wrist this time, because you know Lucas will be curious enough to come and see for himself, as long as you keep this other man here.

Sure enough, "Is he still there?" Lucas asks, and though he sounds suspicious, he mostly sounds intrigued.

"Yeah, I managed to get a hold of him." The slight emphasis you put on 'hold' makes Lucas chuckle, and he promises he'll be there soon before hanging up.

You put your phone away, still holding onto the stranger and look up at him. "You look exactly like my boyfriend," you say, giving him an apologetic smile. "He wants to see."

The man smirks - exactly like Lucas, it's uncanny - and nods towards the counter. "I'd guessed. But may I get a coffee while we wait?"

You nod, "Sure," but go with him to stand in line, reluctantly letting go of him. Lucas has taught you a few things, after all, and one of those is if you don't want your target to get away, you don't let them.

The stranger keeps sending suspicious looks your way as he orders. You don't blame him; if someone had come up to you claiming you looked like their significant other, and then made you stay put so said significant other could see for themselves... well, you'd probably be making a call to the loony bin, so you appreciate that this stranger is willing enough to humor you.

You both wind your way back to an empty table, and he finally offers his hand. "John Porter."

You shake his hand and return the favor, marveling at just how familiar his hand is to you, though maybe the calluses are a bit different. You wonder what John does for a living, if it's as dangerous and worrying as what Lucas does, and then you wonder why it matters.

As you wait, you watch John, the forced stillness of him, how his eyes keep flicking to the door whenever it opens, and he never looks at one thing for too long. You know the exact moment when Lucas walks in - the bell of the door, John's eyes glance over, and then he goes pale, his hands tightening around his coffee mug.

You're sure that's exactly how you looked, and you're worried he might fall out of his chair as strong hands slide over your shoulders and a kiss is pressed to the top of your head.

"Hello, darling," Lucas murmurs, pulling a chair close and sitting, leaning into your space even as he leans across the table and sets his chin in his hand. "And who's this?"

He's clearly making his claim known, and you balk a bit at the thought even though you're pleased he's so possessive of you.

John shifts, visibly swallowing. "John Porter." He doesn't extend his hand to Lucas.

"Are we related?" You almost feel like an intruder in their conversation, but when you press against Lucas' shoulder his body yields to yours, his arm going over your shoulders.

"No," John says immediately, and then he hesitates. "Not that I'm aware of."

Lucas reaches into his coat and sets a small black case on the table, flipping it open to reveal two syringes, one already marked with an 'L', and then shuts it again. "I'd like to know as soon as possible."

John nods absently, looking at the case, and then he looks at you. "Toilets?"

You blink at the question, and then point over your shoulder. John stands and heads in that direction.

Lucas presses a kiss to your cheek and does the same. "Back in a moment, love."

You twist around in your seat to watch their retreating backs, worrying at your lower lip. You hope you haven't mucked things up.

It doesn't take them very long to return, and they haven't thrown any punches because you don't see any bruises, though they're both probably smart enough to keep any injuries where they'd be covered. John tips a nod in your direction before he leaves, but Lucas comes straight to you, dropping into his chair.

"Lunch?" He asks innocently. You narrow your eyes at him and stare until he relents with a sigh. "Blood tests. I told him to keep in contact in the mean time. Now, can we get lunch?"

"I suppose," you reply dubiously. You both get up to leave, lacing your fingers together. As you walk out, you glance up at him. "Did you give him your number?"

When Lucas doesn't answer you pull him to an abrupt stop, tugging roughly at his hand. "Did you give him mine?" You nearly screech, eyes wide. "Why did you give him mine, what am I supposed to talk to him about?"

Lucas grins. "I'm sure you'll come up with something." He laughingly ducks away from your swatting hand, still holding on to the other.

"I should have phone sex with him, that'll teach you." You scowl at his smile, trying to untangle your fingers, but he stubbornly refuses to let go. Huffing, you grudgingly accept his apologetic kiss to your forehead. "You're buying me dessert and I'm picking the most expensive thing," you mumble into his chest as he wraps his arms around you, and you melt just the tiniest bit when he says, "Whatever you want."

**Author's Note:**

> omg I'm sorry for any alternate spellings going on, I am american but sometimes end up using other spellings /o\


End file.
